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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622322">Haze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticPixie/pseuds/CelticPixie'>CelticPixie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dan's pudding, F/M, Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lucifer Feels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:27:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticPixie/pseuds/CelticPixie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”</em><br/>― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ficvember 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Haze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For fic-vember, I decided to utilize the prompt ‘pudding’. People are probably thinking that Lucifer steals Dan’s pudding again—and you’d be wrong, in a way. There’s really nothing light-hearted about this short fic because I decided to go in a different direction, playing off the idea a majority of the fandom is already thinking will happen. Again, this is strictly an idea so please don’t come at me with pitchforks. Happy reading :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The car ride over was silent as the grave – a callous wrench of incongruity considering the very reasoning for it in the first place.</p><p>Lucifer was adamant about driving, but Chloe declined the offer.      </p><p>She was grateful he accompanied her on the drive. Despite protests, she realized she wouldn’t be able to do this alone. Not after yesterday, which was spent crying into a half-melted bowl of ice cream, and Lucifer receiving a phone call in the middle of the night.</p><p>Chloe scarcely managed a sporadic hour. One here, one there. She only just managed a semi-deep coma before Lucifer was tenderly prodding her awake. It was past 8 am in the morning; she wanted to be leaving the condo by now, not jostling around to find something to wear, or worrying about breakfast. They grabbed a drive-through on the way. Chloe didn’t even know why she was concerned about looking presentable. Maybe it was just something she had to do. To make herself feel better. Lucifer would never understand such a ritual, but today of all days was a time he knew better not to question it.</p><p>The funeral was two days ago, and there was still a mountain of things to get done. Lucifer offered to do what he could, even though it wasn’t much. The little things would stack up and there would be a time when Chloe would appreciate his efforts but it wasn’t the forefront of her mind at the moment.</p><p>Proceeding the funeral, her lieutenant advised her to take some time off. She didn’t want to – there was still so much to do; set up an appointment with his attorney, clean out his apartment—and then there was Trixie to worry about. Chloe begged her mother to take her for the weekend, but Penelope had a 3:45 flight to Chicago to catch, and the funeral ended up running a bit late. Thankfully, Amenadiel and Linda offered. If not for them, Chloe might just pull her hair out.</p><p>The vehicle pulled into the apartment complex lot and Chloe threw the car in park. She sighed, Lucifer sighed, and the pair shared a poignant look before wordlessly emerging from the car. The weather in LA that day was clear. A mild 67 degrees with only 57 percent humidity and a wind speed of 3 miles per hour. Truthfully, Chloe hardly noticed.</p><p>Before stepping onto the curb, she spotted another vehicle to her left. It was Dan’s car. A 2014 Acura TSX that hadn’t been touched in days. Detectives were allowed the use of their personal vehicles, often modified to include a Motorola XTL 3500 mobile radio, in addition to lights and sirens.</p><p>The front bumper could use some work and the front right passenger’s side mirror had a slight crack in the upper right-hand corner. The tires could probably use some air. The back bumper had a minor indent from being rear-ended two weeks ago. Chloe made a mental checklist to have all these things taken care of. The inevitable part was deciding what to do with the car. The police-issued equipment would be stripped from it, of course, but then came the decision of either selling it at some auction, donating it to the department—perhaps she could save it for a few years; Trixie was only thirteen, but she’d be getting her license soon enough.</p><p>Chloe fished her copy of the apartment key out of her pocket just as they reached 201A. Walking inside felt as though she had never left. This had been her home once, just as it had been Trixie’s, before the separation, but nothing about this place had changed.</p><p>They were walking in through the front hallway, the floor completely new hardwood. To the right was the kitchen with granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. The living room was just a few steps in and to the left of them and centered there were a greyish-blue L-shaped couch and a faux oak coffee table in front. A large panel flat screen hung on the drywall. Just past the kitchen was a modest dining room with a Grayton Grove Rectangular Leg table with four Upholstered Slat Back Side chairs to match.</p><p>She sighed, a deliberately listless exhale. <em>Let’s get this over with</em>, she prompted herself; “Why don’t you get started in the kitchen? I’ll tackle the living room…” she directed and without confirmation, Chloe beelined into the living room where she immediately began the task of removing décor from the walls.</p><p>After shutting the front door, Lucifer veered into the kitchen and started opening cabinets, pulling out dishes and silverware and other knick-knacks to leave on the counter. They had a sufficient amount of bubble wrap in the hall closet already and Miss Lopez should be coming by later on with some boxes.</p><p>Whatever needed to be washed was placed in the sink with amble amounts of dish soap. Lucifer let them soak up for a bit so he could proceed on.</p><p>Lucifer decided the next task would be the fridge, “Are we saving anything or….?” It seemed such a shame to let food go to waste if it could be utilized at some point, maybe even the detective would want some.</p><p>“Hm?” She glanced over, shaking her head, “No, toss it. I mean, non-perishables can be saved. I know of some food banks in need. We can drive it over later.” Her attention returned to the living room, where she started emptying the drawers of the faux oak Sanford Rectangular coffee table.</p><p>It was difficult to tell if the detective were deflecting – that’s what the doctor would call it; when someone wasn’t dealing properly with their emotions so they pretended everything was fine – but Lucifer wasn’t the expert on human emotions. There was no proper length of time for the grieving process. He would know. There were days he still couldn’t accept Uriel’s death.</p><p>Pushing those thoughts aside, Lucifer searched around for some plastic bags or some trash bags, eventually locating them under the sink. Anything that wasn’t non-perishable was tossed and any containers of liquid were poured down the drain.</p><p>Reaching into the second shelf, his fingers brushed against a remarkably familiar container shape. He stopped. His eyes widened. Lucifer’s hand closed around the container. As he stepped back and stood up, he examined the two unopened pudding cups. His heart squeezed in his chest. It had become a ritual of his to steal Dan’s pudding from the breakroom fridge at the precinct. Holding these pudding cups made him realize that he would never get that chance again.</p><p>This is where Chloe found him because she came through the kitchen for some cleaning supplies she knew Dan kept under the sink. Noticing how rigid Lucifer stood, she drew over to him and only then noticed the pudding cups he held in his hand.</p><p>Chloe adopted a frown, “Lucifer, are you okay?” Her hand rested on his back, between his shoulder blades, and her fingers began a methodical draw over his shirt.</p><p>“It seems such a shame to let this go to waste, detective,” was his answer, not <em>yes, I’m fine</em>, because far from it. He was, in the beginning, but now it felt like someone had punched him in the chest or taken a mallet to his sternum just for the sake of crushing his heart.</p><p>Sometimes it was the small things that could act as big reminders of the life lost. It could trigger moments of reminiscing or cause a full-on breakdown—hearing their favorite band, finding their favorite TV show, combing through old photographs. Different things usually triggered different people. For Chloe, it was a multitude of things she would never fully accept. For Lucifer, it was the pudding Dan enjoyed.</p><p>It made perfect sense for her to feel the loss more profoundly but in her own grief, she selfishly forgot about how Lucifer was dealing with this.</p><p>Soundlessly, Chloe retrieved two spoons from the utensil draw, offering one of them to her boyfriend with a sad yet hopeful smile. They scooted into a few of the bar stools opposite the kitchen sink where they each took a pudding cup and tore open the plastic lid.</p><p>As she helped herself to a spoonful, Chloe proposed a toast, “To Dan…”</p><p>Lucifer smiled, “To Dan.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not quite the direction you might have originally thought. Honestly, I didn't think I would take this direction either but once I started thinking of different ideas, this macabre one popped into my head. Now, I obviously couldn't let it go so I just <em>had</em> to use it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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